All the Queen's Angels

Chapter 9: Stay 🥀

"Forgive me," he whispers. His muscular form is cloaked in shadow, his black wings bleeding into the night sky. They're unfurled slightly, as if he'll take off any second.

"What makes you think you deserve my forgiveness," I ask, "when you sold me out to the enemy just to save your own skin?".

"And let them just lock you up again?," Ambrose replies, his voice pained.

"I'd have preferred spending an eternity in prison than a single second as a Vincenzio...and now they're using me. Just like you did."

"I wasn't using you—!".

"You were, whether your intentions were noble or not. I don't expect you to owe me any loyalty. I'm the bastard of the ex-royal family. Just don't come here and tell me that this was all for my own good when I'm about to be sold off for marriage like cattle," I spat.

He stays quiet for a while, still as the statues around us.

"My duty was never to your country. My duty is to you, Evangeline, and only you. No power on earth can change that," he says quietly. "I was not using you."

"Then why—?".

"I was coming back for you! Did you really believe I'd just abandon you there? But then you exiled me and it took me days before I could even escape, and by the time I returned to Forsythia...you were gone. I thought they'd tricked me and I...well, I was scared, Evangeline. I was terrified I lost you for good," he says, taking a hesitant step forward. I swallow and try to ignore the way his words made my heart stutter. They're just pretty words from a pretty boy.

"How did you even find me?," I mutter as I fiddle with the sleeves of my dress.

"I may have Fallen but I'm still a remnant of the being I once was," he says softly, smiling tentatively. A shiver skitters through me as I'm reminded of who this boy is.

Ambrose was sculpted eons ago, from stardust and fragments of dreams. He may be a fraction of his former heavenly self, but even in their mortal form, Fallen Angels are capable of bringing grown men to their knees with words alone.

But I am not afraid. Annoyed, maybe, but not afraid. Instead his presence only tames the wildness in my mind. With him I have nothing to fear when I close my eyes. I meet his piercing gaze.

"Are you afraid of me?," he asks softly.

"No," I whisper, taking a step towards him.

"Do you hate me?," he asks again.

"No."

I step closer, within arm's reach of him, watching his throat bob as he swallows.

"Do you forgive me?," he murmurs into my ear as he closes the distance between us. His hands hover near my shoulders as if his touch might scare me away again. I peer into his silver gaze, contemplating.

"You want my forgiveness?," I echo, placing my hands on his broad shoulders.

"Yes."

"Then kneel."

He does not hesitate when he gets down on his knees before me, his wings trailing on the ground behind him.